Bruce Wayne: Dawn Of The Bat
by DreadLock Mad Master
Summary: "It's not who I am, but what I do, that defines me..."- Rachel: "Bruce?" -"Well, who'd you'd think it would be, woman?" -"Umm..." -"Forget it, gotta save Gotham!" -"Wait! Alfred?" Batman turned: "Are you serious?"
1. Chapter 1

**Ok, this is part 2 of my story "Bruce Wayne Begins". For those of you just coming in on this one, I LOVE Batman Begins and have shamelessly watched it about a thousand times. This is a parody of this film. I felt like starting fresh with a new starting story and this was a good dividing line anyway because the first story dealt with Bruce Wayne actually "beginning". Bruce's flashbacks and travels are over and now it's game time in Gotham City. This one will actually be introducing the Batman... So sit back and enjoy another wild ride with our out spoken billionaire and our lovable yet sarcastic butler in...**

* * *

Bruce Wayne: Dawn of the Bat

"Are you coming back to Gotham for long, sir…? Sir…?"

**_"WHOOOOOOOOO! I'M KING OF THE WORLLLLD!"_** Billionaire Bruce Wayne and his butler Alfred Pennyworth were on a private jet bound for Gotham City. Bruce had been in the mountains for years of intense ninja training, and now that he was finally ready to come back, he was feeling the buzz.

"Master Bruce! Master Bruce!" Alfred opened the top hatch of hull, the wind rushing so fast that it pulled at the old mans wrinkles like he had a face fix, his grey-silver hair whipping straight back. Alfred pulled out the mega phone.

"GET OFF THE BLASTED WING, MASTER BRU…" A sudden gust made it fly into his face, chipping a tooth. The instrument went sailing behind as the poor butler held his mouth, losing his balance, then falling back into the plane. A minute later he came back up again, this time mad as heck.

"YOU GET YOUR BLOODY CARCASS OFF THAT WING RIGHT THIS SECOND!" Bruce had tied a rope about his waist; the other end tied to the plane. He was now leaning backwards with his hands in the air giving peace signs.

"WHAT ALFRED!" Bruce slowly turned his head, he had goggles on so he could easily see the crazy butler waving his arms at him. Bruce smiled a waved back. Alfred waved back too, his face as red as an apple and those weren't peace signs he was shooting his way…

"YOU GOTTA TRY THIS ALFREEEED! WHOOOOOO!"

"MASTER BRUCE!" Alfred found another mega phone, being a little more careful this time. It screeched loudly as he called his name again.

"MASTER BRUUUUCE!"

"'_I BELIEEEEVE I CAN FLYYYYY, I'M GONNA GET SHOT BY THE FBIIII'" _Bruce was now doing the wave.

"MASTER…BRUCE…!"

"'_BLEEP THOSE GUYS JUST GOTTA TO DO MY THING!'"_

"MAST…ER…!"

"_JUMP OFF OF ROOFTOPS AND SCARE EVERYTHIIIING…!"_

_SCCCCcccccrrreeeeeccccch!_ Went the sound of the mega phone.

"WHOO!" Bruce was having a blast.

"ARE YOU QUITE FINISHED, MASTER BRUCE?"

"I AM SO HIGH RIGHT NOW!"

"WE ARE HIGH ENOUGH ALREADY, SIR. NOW, PLEASE…COME…DOWN!"

"DOWN? YOU WANT ME TO JUMP _DOWN_, ALFRED? IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT?" Another smile spread across his face.

"NO! NO! THAT'S NOT WHAT I…"

"FREE _FAAAAAAAAAAALL….!_" Bruce unclipped his moorings and went zipping past his butler. Alfred lost his grip and hit himself again.

"_**# #$!&*$!#$!**"_ Alfred dove back inside, holding his eye and slamming the hatch. His eyes red and hair windblown, the butler yelled up to the front.

"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? SWOOP DOWN AND GET 'IM YOU IDIOT!" The jet did a nose dive. Bruce, though nothing audible could be heard, could see upon his gaping happy face he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

"Blast you…" Alfred pulled out a weapon that almost resembled a bazooka. He attached it in between the sides of the door, he then took aim.

Bruce was laughing into the wind. He knew full jamn well that the main character _never_ died. He was proving that theory now…

"'_BABY WHEN I'M WITH YOU I LOSE MY MIIIIND, GIVE ME A SIIIIIGN!'" _

Alfred pulled the trigger.

"'_HIT ME BABY, ONE MORE…__**OOPH**__!'"_ The net engulfed him like a spider's web as he found himself kicking amongst its strands. Alfred shook his head as he hoisted him up.

"_If your parents could see you now…"_ The plane leveled off as Bruce was almost to safety. Bruce glared up, flipping him off.

"YOU ARE SUCH A KILL JOY!"

"_WHAT IN THE NAME OF MOTHER ENGLAND DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING?"_

* * *

Bruce and Alfred sat quietly in their seats. Alfred sipping a well needed, six shot martini with Bruce sipping nothing, cuffed to the arm rest. Alfred looked over at him. The man, for the first time he's seen him, was deep in thought.

"I want to show the people..." Bruce began.

"What an arse you really are?" Bruce just glanced over with a squint.

"No…That their city doesn't belong to the criminals and the corrupt." Alfred downed his martini and threw it to the side. He leaned forward, pointing out the window.

"What you did out there…" He forcefully tapped at the smooth, doubled glass, "Was completely bananas! Bonkers! I'm not sure you're ready to go back to civilized society quite frankly with a stunt like that!"

"_Civilized_, Alfred? Gotham is everything _but_ civilized."

"Yes, but they don't go around just jumping off planes like popcorn kernels! Riding a wing of a plane… it's complete madness!"

"Jamn straight I'm mad, Alfred! Mad enough to finally do something about whipping Gotham back shape!"

"In the depression…"

"Ah, here we go…" Bruce slumped in his chair.

"Your father nearly bankrupted Wayne Enterprises combating poverty. He believed his example could inspire the wealthy of Gotham to save their city."

"Well…Did it?"

"In a way."

"Hmph..."

"Their murder shocked the wealthy and the powerful into action

"Well there you go! People need dramatic examples to shake them out of apathy. I can't do that as Bruce Wayne…" Bruce started to lift his arm, but it was caught short. He looked down at his left wrist. He began drumming his fingers.

"Can you take this off now?"

"No."

"No, what...?"

"Just no, I don't feel like it right now."

"I meant, after you said 'no', you were supposed to say "Master Bruce". Alfred sat up straight.

"I believe I can choose to say whatever I want to. I ain't your freakin' genie…_Bruce…"_

"Stop that." Bruce squirmed.

"_Bruceyyy…"_

"CALL ME MASTER!"

"I think I won't do that for the rest of the trip…_Bruce…"_

"I AM YOUR MASTER! CALL ME BY MY RIGHTFUL NAME!"

"…_Bruce…"_

"_Grrrrrr…" _Alfred took another sip.

"Anyways, continue what you were saying Ma...Ma…" Alfred bit his lip.

"Ha! You can't help but say it! You can't deny your natural allegiance to me!"

"Slip of the tongue."

"WHAT'S MY NAME?"

"…_Bruce…"_

"Jamn you, butler…"

"As you were saying, M.B.?"

"Hey, now I like that one. You can call me that anytime you want."

"Whatever you say, sir."

"At least you call me 'sir'."

"'_Miss.'"_

"Get me out of these cuffs."

"No..." Silence.

"You were going to say…?"

"As a man,Alfred, as a _man_..." Bruce warmed up, "I'm flesh and blood; I can be ignored, destroyed."

"Yes, definitely destroyed. Like shredded toilet paper…" He went ahead and poured himself another martini.

"But as a symbol", Bruce raised his eyebrows, "As a symbol, I can be incorruptible."

"You can be everlasting…"

"I can be everlasting… _hey!_" Alfred casually crossed his legs, enjoying his beverage.

"What symbol?" He spoke coolly.

"Something elemental… Something terrifying..." Bruce's got a bit raspier as his voice trailed off, Alfred nodding his head slightly.

"I assume that as you take on the underworld, this symbol is a persona to protect those you care about from reprisals?" Bruce's eyes flicked up.

"You're thinking about Rachel?"

"Actually, sir", Alfred chuckled, "I was thinking of myself."

"Jeez", Bruce snorted, "You are a selfish b*stard, you know that old friend?"

"Just speaking my mind, sir."

"Yeah, well, maybe it can be seen and not heard at times…" Alfred was looking at his glass, swishing it around. Bruce began to rub his chin.

"Have you told anyone I'm coming back?" Alfred downed the drink and again threw it off to the side.

"I couldn't figure", He burped, "The legal ramifications of bringing you back from the dead." Bruce's eyes went wide.

"Dead? What the heck, Alfred!"

"You've been gone seven years."

"Yeah, I decided to ditch this mud hole and _carve my way through life_ and 'find myself', but you had me declared dead?"

"Actually, it was Mr. Earle. He's taking the company public."

"Aah, gooood ol' uncle Earle…" Bruce slumped back, rubbing his face.

"He wanted to liquidate your majority shareholding."

"As we already know… I like to see him try to do _that _again."

"Mhmm, those shares are worth quite a bit of money."

"Don't need to tell _me_ that… Jeez, _dead? Really?"_

"Get over yourself, Master Bruce. Take it like a man." Bruce sat up and snapped his fingers.

"You said it! You said 'master'!"

"Get real, Bruce…" Bruce sighed like a depressed teenager, slumping further into his seat. After a while his glance over and smirked.

"Well, it's a good thing I left everything to _you_, then."

"Quite so, sir."

"MHmph, _right."_ Bruce nodded his head, again rubbing face thoroughly.

"_That son of a…"_ He grumbled his words in frustration.

"And you can borrow the Rolls, if you like. Just bring it back with a full tank." Alfred stated, leaning back, Bruce just nodded his head.

"Wait a sec… do you mean _cinnamon rolls? ...Huh?"_ Alfred went for another martini.

* * *

_** Hope you like the starting chapter! This is real time so... New chapters will come and will try to be posted at a reasonable time. Any comments are welcome! :) Next chapter will be introducing are ever so intriguing... ok just plain weird... Dr. Jonathan Crane. Stay tuned!**_


	2. Chapter 2

Ladies and Gentlemen, batboys and batgirls… We are now approaching the happiest, most welcoming… most inviting place on this continent on earth!

Gotham...

Imagine. The sweeping morning landscape. Its glistening buildings and its shimmering waters. Just breathe in that atmosphere. Never mind that you may cough and choke due to its high air pollution of smog, and maybe swimming in its green, glowing shores may not be the best of ideas... But its home… To the people of Gotham City... its home…

* * *

_**(DUH-DUN)**_-[Law&OrderSound]

_Gotham City Courthouse_

_Suspect: Victor Zsaz_

_Crime: Torturing people for the mob_

"In my opinion…" Dr. Jonathan Crane spoke into the microphone at the witness chair. "Mr. Zsaz is as much a danger to himself as to others..." He glanced towards the bald man with the beard.

"...And prison is probably not the best environment for his rehabilitation." The bald man named Zsaz smirked, giving a rock fist. Only a few people, mostly said important people, were in the room. The judge, preoccupied on his hand held device playing video games, just mumbled and nodded at Crane's "logical" statement, pounding the gavel... having it pass. A certain district attorney lady, totally cheesed off, collected her files.

"Hey you! Dr. Crane!" The woman was clicking her heels in pursuit on the cold marbled courthouse hallway. Again, she was ticked.

"Miss Dawes." Crane regarded curtly.

"You think a man who butchers people for the mob doesn't belong in jail?"

"No, I think he should go into a field and pick flowers."

"What!" Rachel pulled on his arm and was getting' all up in his grill.

"Don't…touch me…" Crane spoke evenly.

"Do you think this is _funny_, Crane? There's nothing funny about it!"

"Your breath smells of coffee… I _hate_ coffee… step away or I'll ask a cop to tase you."

"Answer me, Crane! Do you think a psycho like that who butchers people for the mob doesn't belong in jail?" She still held on to his arm.

"I would hardly have testified to that otherwise, would I? Security…"

"This is the third of Falcone's thugs you've had declared insane..."

"_Security!"_

"...and moved into your asylum." Rachel was nodding, sneering with attitude. She tightened her grip.

"_Oook_, you seem like a nice girl that's just started having a cr*ppy day. Let go of my arm or I'll give you some _real_ cr*p to gripe about…" Rachel raised her eyebrows.

"Are you… threatening me, Dr. Crane?" She snorted in amusement.

"Ms. Dawes…" He managed to yank his arm away. "As to your question, its simple. Naturally the work offered by organized crime must have an attraction to the insane. See? Now good day…" He turned abruptly quickening his pace, Rachel like a Chihuahua at his heels.

"Or the corrupt!" She grabbed his arm again.

_For the love of…! _Crane sighed, looking down, and biting his lip.

_I want to do it…I want to sooo bad… Gas her! Gas her now! No, not yet. Not now… but soon… LET GO OF THE FREAKIN' ARM ALREADY!_ He then saw a man approach their direction.

"Mr. Finch!" Crane called out, relieved. The man came up.

"You should check with Miss Dawes here just what implications your office has authorized her to make. If any…" He then forced a smile, and not a pretty one at that. Rachel stared at him.

"You're weird…" Rachel spoke bluntly. Cranes smile disappeared.

_Why you little…_

"Rachel! I'm so sorry, Dr. Crane, she didn't mean that." Finch replied nervously.

"Oh, Yeah, I did Carl."

_Gas her! Gas her now!_ Crane gritted his teeth. He popped his neck as he spoke strenuously.

"This is very unprofessional behavior, Ms. Dawes", he chuckled, "I'm surprised they nominated a woman like in you…or a _woman_ by any means in general, for assistant district attorney…or maybe, in fact, any high position at all... G_ood_ day."Crane then turned abruptly and strode away, Rachel's mouth gaping open.

_Yeah, take THAT to the kitchen b…_

"I changed my mind, Crane… you're not just weird… you're a psychotic nut job that's what you are!" Finch tugged Rachel away. Crane just barely kicked the entrance door open. He was seething and gasping as if he couldn't breathe. He quickly kept his cool as he swung his head around searching. He was sweating too.

_I…Gotta get my fix! I gotta scare the living sh*t out of something RIGHT NOW! Fast…!_

As he walked, he stopped in his tracks, his eyes landing upon a small, gray kitten in an ally way.

Paying no attention to the crazy man now slowly approaching it, the cat licked at its paws as it began to groom itself. Crane careful opened his brief case and pulled out something that, at a first glance, looked like an old, worn sack… Crane's smile curled at the corners as he outstretched a gnarly, crooked finger.

"_Here kitty, kitty, kitty…"_ The kitten blinked and slowly looked in his direction.

_**BOOGA BOOGA BOOGA BOOGA!**_

(Pause)

[Now… three things happened in this short three second scene... First, a spray of mist… then the stupid act you just witnessed above… and then… _this…_]

(Un-pause)

_**ROWRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!**_ The cat, totally berserk, leapt straight in the air… then right into Crane's hooded face.

"_**OH MY GOOOOSH!"**_ Crane screamed. Cat spit, claws and extreme pain were the only thing the doctor was experiencing right now.

"**AAAAHH! STUPID CAAAA!**" Crane was now smashing into trash cans trying desperately to shake it off; the fear stricken kitten clawing for dear life's sake at the ugly looking mug. A couple of women with their kids strolled by, just stopping at the alley hearing the loud commotion. They gasped.

"Mommy! Mommy! That weird man is hurting that poor little kitty!"

"What are you doing to that poor kitten, you psycho!"

"_GET IT OFF!"_

"Yeah! There's enough crazies around in Gotham without someone like _you_ messin' around antagonizing our animals!"

"PLEASE! I'M BEGGING HERE!" Crane was now in tears. The woman just shook her head, the other lady calling 9-1-1. All the while the kids were yelling at him to stop harming the poor, defenseless, little kitty.

**"WHY DID I CHOOSE THE ONE THING THAT WAS THE SPAWN OF THE **_**DEVIL?**"_ Then, with one final wrench, he yanked off the feline and threw it back into the alley. Some other smaller kids came by and saw him do this horrific act. They gasped and glared at him with scrunched up faces.

"You're a meanie!" They wined as they pointed their sticky little fingers.

"Keep away from me! Stay away from me!" They all began to run in his direction.

* * *

"What are you doing?" Finch spoke, as he pulled Rachel away.

"What does it _look_ like I'm doing? I'm trying to get answers here! That weasel was going to crack at any moment! What are _you_ doing, Carl?"

"Looking out for you!" They stopped aside the entrance as Finch looked about then back at Rachel.

"Falcone has half the city bought and paid for. Drop it."

"What? How can you say that? How much did they give you, Carl? I thought we were a team!"

"No, it's just..." He sighed, "Because as much as I care about getting Falcone, I care more about you."

_Aww_…Rachel pierced her lips.

"That's sweet…uh… _what the heck..." _Rachel cocked her head sideways.

"What's happening_ over there?_" Their attention was suddenly drawn to a bizarre spectacle across the street.

"_Oh shoot!"_ Bruce dressed in an old hoodie and jacket, ducked down into the pay phone booth as their eyes swept his direction.

"What are those kids doing to that poor man in the… is that a _potato sack?_" Finch analyzed.

"_GET AWAY FROM ME!"_ Crane could be heard yelling from afar. Many a few bystanders were standing taking videos from their cell phones at the strange scene, as moms and kids alike were calling out and with more and more kids kicking the doctor in the legs and knees.

"YOU NASTY NOSE PICKERS SHOULD BURN FOREVER, YOU LITTLE URCHINS! **AAH!**" Crane was shaking them off, but was adding to no results. Rachel shook her head.

"Gotham has gotten so weird, Carl. There's no hope for it." She sighed.

The man jerked away, finally getting free from the small mob, but only to turn out in the busy street facing an oncoming vehicle.

_**Beeeeeeeeeeep!**__ Hrrrrrrk!_

_Please… _He whimpered.

Crane put his hands in front as the car did not stop fast enough and knocked Crane sprawled on his back.

Cars were honking and drivers yelling as Crane lay there half unconscious on the side of the curb. Onlookers from the other side of the street were sipping on their lattes as they casually watched. More people were coming in closer, taking more videos.

_"Soo…"_ Finch cleared his throat, his attention fully on Rachel, "Do you want to grab some lunch or something? I'll buy." He tried to pull a casual smile; Rachel just looked at him. She tried to smile back.

"Oh…yeeah… I got a protein bar, Carl, but thanks…" She gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

_Hey! That's my written woman you're kissing, dude!" _Bruce glared across from the pay phone. Rachel looked up at Finch.

"We've been through all that." They both then disappeared into the courthouse.

_She's such a slut… _Bruce was still standing in front of the pay phone.

"Hey, buddy! Are you done with that, now?"

**"YOU CAN BLEEPIN' WAIT YOUR TURN, PAL!"** Bruce barked.

"Whoa easy, easy! _Jeez…_!" The man walked away. Sirens could be heard coming down the street. Crane shook his head and sprang to his feet. He then, collecting his briefcase, ran the opposite direction and vanished around the corner. The mother with her kids screamed on after him.

"Yeah, you better run! …weirdo!"

"Yeah! Weirdo!" A girl spat out her tongue. She now held the small kitten, whose eyes looked so big it looked like it was hooked on crack.

"Don't be frightened wittle kitty… The meanie man is gone now... you're SOOO cute…"

_**ROWRRRRRRRR!**_

**_"SCREEEEEEEACH!"_**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey! Sorry the next chapter took a while! But here it is fresh of the plate! :) ~DDM**

* * *

Bruce Wayne was crisscrossed on the carpeted floor of Wayne Manor. A quick change from being in the mountains, Bruce was adapting nicely to his now new cushioned environment…

"**Where's my freakin' tea, Alfred**!" Bruce spoke with a mouthful of cookies, with some crumbs flying out. He went for his glass of juice.

"Do we even have any milk around here?"

"That's all we have, sir, I haven't had the chance to go to the grocers yet." Alfred's voice was echoing down the hallway.

"But this is Wayne Manor! Don't we have like a walk in fridge with our own carts or something?" The butler sighed.

"No, Master Bruce, we don't."

"That sucks…" He downed the juice anyway. He then continued looking through public pictures and newspaper clippings; briefing himself on what Gotham's been doing since he was away.

"Hey, we got a new supermarket, alright! ALFRED!" After a moment, and a clash of a few dishes, a gray head popped out from the side of the kitchen entrance. Bruce pointed at the paper.

"You never told me about this! How 'bout you go there and get something better than these stale granny cookies you're feeding me!" Alfred sighed once again, his eyes half lidded.

"Well for one thing those are _scones_ you are eating, Master Bruce and if I may say, they are quite delicious in my opinion. Second, I checked the fridge and the only thing we have close to milk is soy." Bruce gave Alfred a look. Whipping out his cellphone, he started to dial. Alfred walked in with the tea.

"What on earth are you doing, Master Bruce?"

"I'm ordering take out. I'm trying to decide whether Chinese or pizza... Ha, screw the Chinese food! I must be crazy! Pizza..." Bruce began to redial.

"But I just made you a fresh salami sandwich." Alfred retorted, sounding almost exasperated.

"'_Salami?' _Alfred, I've been in the hills for seven years! I need _real_ food. Preferably, _American _food?"

"This is better for you."

"Thanks mom,I'll consider it when I'm old…"

"By that time you might already be dead by the over consumption of American cheese burgers…"

"Cheese burgers... Hey, good idea! I'll call them first."

_Siiiigh... _Alfred just shook his head.

'_Squeak-squeak-squeak!'_

"What the heck was that?" Bruce dropped the cell phone and got to his feet. Walking into the other room, He looked up at the ceiling. Alfred walked as well, glancing up where a bat was flying about the crystal chandelier.

"Blessed bat again, sir."

_"Wooow…"_ Bruce stared and gawked at it, almost drooling. You could see the gears turning in his head. Alfred looked at him cocking an eye brow.

"Do you want me to leave you and the bat _alone_ for a while, sir?" Bruce shook his head.

"Where do you think it came from?"

"They nest somewhere in the grounds."

_"In the grounds… Hmm… You don't say..."_

* * *

Bruce bounded down the steps of Wayne Manor. He was giddy as a school boy at Christmas and was most eager to get where he wanted to go, fast.

_I've been waiting for this moment!_

Running through the garden, Bruce then stopped by a spot where some vines and black berry bushes were. Bruce dove in, tearing it up with his bare hands.

_Yes…YES!_

"Master Bruce! MASTER BRUCE!" Alfred hollered from the top of the steps, holding out the tea tray.

"NOT NOW, ALFRED!" Bruce was pulling the turf up like a madman.

"You're insane! Your hands will get torn up…AT LEAST WEAR SOME FREAKIN' GLOVES!" But it was already done. In the place where Bruce pulled away the vines, was an old, discarded well.

"_AAAH…"_ Bruce exhaled. He then threw down the rope he brought. Alfred was shouting behind him.

"Master Bruce! Don't…!"

"BONZAIIII!" The billionaire propelled down the line.

"Rubish!_" _The butler muttered to himself, waving his hand. Pursuing no further, he went back inside to begin to prepare the medical kit.

* * *

Bruce landed with a thump, the air damp and cool. Memories flooded back to him when he once fell in this well long ago as a small boy. But now he was a man, and ready for his destiny.

Bruce glanced around and found the hole leading down to the abyss.

"_Come to papa, baby."_ Without hesitation, Bruce scrabbled through the opening like a burrowing squirrel.

It was dark; a dark dripping cavern of stalagmites and stalactites. It was also quite spacious, its ceiling reaching high and lofty, disappearing into the shadows. Bruce stood in the middle of it all, quiet and listening…

"_The time has finally come… I've been waiting a long for this moment…"_

Bruce glanced up. The sound of fluttering wings could faintly be heard. Bruce whipped out his flash light.

"_It is now time…for my initiation…"_ In a split second, Bruce flicked on his LED torch and pointed it 'Skywalker style' to the ceiling. A rush of millions and millions of bats scattered and swarmed around him, filling the whole cave with loud piercing screams. Still holding up the torch, he closed his eyes and soaked in the sudden feeling of power… The power of the darkness!

"Yes…Yesss…_YEEEEESSS!"_ The bats screeched as they all circled like a cyclone about him. His hair flew in the whirling wind created by the beating of their leathery wings.

"_Heh-heh…hahaha__**HAHAHAHAHAAA**__!" _It felt like a symphony had erupted at its climax and Bruce was its conductor, he had past his test. Now, with his ambition ignited, the burning fire now blazing within him and his destiny written in stone... Gotham now had hell to pay…

"I AM YOUR MASTER! I HAVE BECOME ONE WITH THE DARKNESS! I…**AM**…BA…!"

'_**Screeeech!'**_ A bat then flew into him, taking a big chunk out of his neck.

_"AAAAAAAAAAAAH!_" Bruce clentched his neck, now gushing blood. Then it happened. Gradually, like a pack of wild mammaled mosquitoes, the most awesome scene on earth, soon spiraled and turned into an ugly, living nightmare as they all began to descended upon him...

"Oh...Cra..."

Alfred sat in a lawn chair with his sun glasses. Leaning next to the well, he was reading a magazine and drinking... what else... tea. The medical kit was laying at his now sandaled clad feet.

**"_ALFEEEEEEED!"_** Alfred flipped to the next page and sighed contentedly.

"_ALFREEEEEEEED! **HEEELLLP MEE!"**_ The butler turned his head.

"Just let me finish this column, sir, and I'll be right with you…" He then turned back to his magazine. The echoes of screeching bats could be heard far below.

"STOP! **STOP!** I AM YOUR MASTER NOW! OW! **_ALFREEEEED!"_** Alfred sighed again and tossed the mag aside.

"To think, it only gets worse from here on out…" Grunting as he got up, he then strapped on the twin tanks to his back. Then making a few adjustments, he tested the hose nozzle of the blow torch. The flame billowed ten feet in front of him.

"Perfect… Coming Master Bruce!" He threw down the medical kit first before Alfred, with nozzle between his teeth, slid down after the screaming Bruce Wayne.

"I think I need a bandage, Alfred..."


	4. Chapter 4

"No more favors. Someone is sniffing around…"

"What the heck happened to _you?"_ Falcone was sitting at his desk and was now looking into the face of Dr. Jonathan Crane. His face was completely swollen with stitched scratch marks crossing like a zebra's backside. Crane just sat there looking very intently at him.

"You look like crap."

_"Shut up."_

"Like something the cat dragged…"

"SHUT UP!" He pounded the table.

"Jeez, no need to be so hostile, what happened?" Crane looked away, drumming his fingers on his briefcase.

"Let's just say a cat _did_ cross my path…"

"And all over yer face too so it seems."

"SHUT UP!" He pounded the table again. Falcone tried to wipe the smirk off his face.

"What'd you do... _scare it half to death_?" Cranes' jaw clenched

"You know, if I had a gun right now, I'd shoot you. Like right…_now_…"

"I'd like to see you try, pal." He glared. Crane cleared his throat, cracking his neck; he was almost going off the edge again. He restated his concern once again.

"Someone's sniffing around, Falc…" Falcone was clamping a hand to his mouth, his shoulders shaking up and down, trying to retain himself. Crane's own face was getting red as he hated to be mocked.

"_Hey…snk…_ I scratch your back…you scratch mine…DOC!" He started busting gut right there. Crane's arms started trembling.

"But now, I guess, _**you**_ should be doing all the scratching! I don't think there's any room for me to scratch you anyway! PHAHAHA! It already been **DONE**! PHAHAHA!" Crane lunged at his throat, anger seething forth. His deformed face adding to the effect.

"YOU DARE? YOU_ DARE?_ YOU SCUM OF THE EARTH GARBAGE BAG!" He began to shake the mob boss fiercely. He then slapped him two times and threw him to the floor and out of his chair. Falcone's arm took out the lamp as he hit hard. He scrambled, trying to get up again. Meanwhile, Crane was found digging and fumbling through his briefcase.

"WHERE THE HELL IS THAT MASK?" Papers flew as the doctor searched desperately. Falcone finally crawled to his desk, dizzy but still focused. Thinking Crane was looking for a gun, he got his own gun cocked and ready, just in case.

"I'm bringing in the shipments! You wouldn't…!" Falcone sneered, as he propped up his gun. The bruised faced Crane returned the gesture, getting to steadily to his feet.

"No more favors, Falcon man! You hear me?" Crane barked, "We are paying you top dollar for shipping that all this crap! You give me what** I** want!" Falcone leaned forward.

"Well, maybe money isn't as interesting to me as favors." In flash not known to mortal man, Crane karate kicked the gun out of his grip. He then picked it up, throwing it out the window.

"You're crazy!" Falcone spat. Crane, hair out of place and breathing hard, placed both hands flat on top of the desk, leaning intensely as his shadow swept over the mob boss. Falcone gulped.

"I am more than aware that you are not... _intimidated_ by me, Mr. Falcone." Crane hissed.

"Like heck!" Crane cocked his head sideways like an owl. Falcone flinched.

_Psycho…_

"But you know who I'm working for, and when he gets here..." Falcone's eyes widened a bit.

"He... He's coming to Gotham?"

"Yes, he is", Crane spoke coolly, "And when he gets here, he's not going to wanna hear that you've endangered our operation just to get your _thugs_ out of a little jail time." There was a tense silence. Falcone could feel Crane's heaving breathing.

"Could you… maybe… back up a lil…"

"ANSWER ME FALCO!" Crane roared as he pounded the table yet again, the boss held up both hands.

"ALRIGHT! Who's bothering you?"

"There's a b… a _girl_ at the DA's office…" Crane corrected himself.

"We'll buy her off." Falcone shrugged.

"Not this one."

"Idealist, huh?"

"That's right." Crane nodded.

"Well", Falcone grinned wickedly, "there's an answer to that too."

"I don't want to know."

"Yes, you do. A psycho like you…"

**"I AM NOT A PSYCHO!**" Crane screeched, his eye twitching.

"Okay! _Okay!_ Jeez, testy." Crane pierced his lips, shaking his fist.

"Every time someone says that word to me… I…I just die a little bit inside." There was a pause.

"Soo…Would you like some coffee or somethin'?" Crane's eyes narrowed dramatically.

"I _hate_ coffee. I prefer tea. _Herbal._"

"_Huh... __No wonder you're such wimp." _Falcone breathed.

"What was that?" Crane squinted, leaning in closer.

"Wha! I didn't say nothin'!" In the midst of the papers on the floor Crane caught sight of the thing he was looking for. He held his gaze for a long debated time then he closed his eyes and sighed deeply.

_'Not yet… Not yet… but soon…reeeal soon… you can bet on** that**…'_ Crane startled Falcone with smile.


	5. Chapter 5

WAYNE ENTERPRISES- The pinnacle of Gotham in which keeps Gotham afloat and on the map. Not to mention also the main cash cow to what keeps Bruce Wayne dirty rich. It is now run by William Earle, CEO of the company. 'Faithfully' serving the people of Gotham… until the rightful Wayne aire takes his place, that is. Seven years past, Earle has been feeling quite comfortable in the head chair of the company and is ready to make changes… big changes, seeing that billionaire Bruce Wayne has been missing in action for years and seemed to not be coming back. Earle put the nail on the head by declaring that Bruce was dead, and saw that the business must take a new direction and carry on without him, nor the family of Wayne's placed traditions either… Of course, Bruce could not let this train of thinking go so smoothly unchallenged... and without him throwing a monkey wretch into the works.

"How's my tie, Alfred?" The limo was parked on the side of the building of Wayne Enterprises. Alfred at the wheel checked in the rearview mirror.

"Just fine, sir."

"Do you think I have enough expensive mousse on my hair?" Alfred sniffed the air behind him.

"Smells awful, Master Bruce."

"Great! Wish me luck!" Bruce opened the car door and stepped out, closing it behind him.

"Give 'im heck, Master Bruce…"

* * *

_"…No, we are showing very healthy growth in these sectors..._" A member of the Gotham board stated. A business meeting was being held on the top floor of the tall glistening building. All the men were gathered at a huge round table, seated in their comfortable chairs. The wall in front of the room had high ceiling windows showing a clear view of Gotham City. Another man spoke as he leaned forward in his chair.

"I don't think Thomas Wayne would have viewed heavy-arms manufacture as a suitable cornerstone for our business..."

"_Screw Thomas Wayne!"_ The room gasped. The words came from none other than William Earle, who sat at the head of the table.

'_Wha…?'_

'_Screw Thomas Wayne?'_

'_Did he actually say that?' _All the men started murmuring amongst themselves. Earle cleared his throat.

"Gentlemen… What I _meant_ to say was, that's twenty years ago, Fredericks. A long time ago…" All the men were listening now, some rubbing their chins in thought.

"I think after twenty years we can allow ourselves to stop thinking about what Thomas Wayne would have done."

"So... what? You want us to have our name changed to "Earle Enterprises" _now?_ Hmm?" Earle tried to hide smirk, the thought had already crossed his mind.

"Well…let's just take one step at a time gentlemen, shall we?"

* * *

"_Good morning, Mr. Earle's office?" _The young secretary outside was answering phone calls.

"_Yes, he's confirmed for the dinner tomorrow evening..."_ Just then... heaven knows how... music filled the entire room. A man strolled around the corner as the words sang:

'_Guess who just got back today. Them wild-eyed boys that'd been away…' _

Bruce took his time as he approached the desk in a cool, bad boy kinda swag, his eyes never leaving the secretary's' face.

'_The boys are back in town! The boys are back in tooown…!'_

Bruce did a spin than ran a hand through his heavily moussed hair; one hand was in his pocket. He was making his entrance. Then the song instantly changed to "Coming Home" by Diddy. Bruce slowed down, switching gears.

'_I'm coming home, I'm coming home…'_

"Hey baby…" Bruce spoke in a deep voice as he reached the counter.

'_Tell the world I'm coming home…'_ Bruce mouthed the words. The secretary herself just sat there gawking as this stylish hunk of man was now hovering at her table. The music continued, Bruce laying on the ultra-swag, whipping out his shades. He began to lip synch.

"_I'm back where I belong… Yeah, I never felt so strong… I'm feelin' like there's nothing that I can't try…"_

_(I'm back, baby)_

"_And if you with me put your hands high"_

_(Put your hands high…)_

Bruce took out a mini remote from the inside of his tux, putting it over his head and turning the music to 'background mode.' Placing it back in, he then slid his shades down, raising his eye brows.

"Good morning, lovely. I'm here to see Mr. Earle."

_"Uh…Uh…_" The secretary just sat there staring. Bruce grinned, then wearing a quizzical look on his face.

"Do you like to dance?"

* * *

"Thomas would probably not have taken the company public", Earle kept rambling on the other side of the door, "But that is what we, as _responsible_ managers, are going to do!" All the men said nothing in retort. Earle took this as his cue and pressed the intercom button to his secretary's desk.

"_Jessica?"_ Earle spoke expectantly.

"_You're still a disrespectful jerk, though…"_ Earle's eyebrows arched up as he squinted at one of the board members. He pressed the intercom again.

"Jessica? Where are you?" No answer. Earle frowned.

_What do I pay even that woman for? For just sitting there?_

A moment later, Earle swung open the double doors. Thus witnessing…

"_**PARTY ROCK IS IN THE HOUSE TONIGHT! EVERYBODY JUST HAVE A GOOD TIME! AND WE'RE GONNA MAKE YOU LOSE YOUR MIND! EVERYBODY JUST HAVE GOOD TIME!"**_

Earle just stood frozen holding the doors as a blast of strobe lighting and bass tones flooded his eyes and auditory sensors. All the board members leaned forward in their seats, peering past. Earle's secretary was 'breaking a move' on top of her desk while a man wearing a tux was doing air guitar and bobbing his head. His back was turned so the man couldn't be recognized. Earle's blood was beginning to boil.

"WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON HERE?" But his voice was drowned out too much to be noticed. The secretary jumped off her desk, swooping into the man's arms, Bruce catching her then spinning her about. Earle was past furious and enragement, the older men behind actually enjoying the spectacle. With another spin, Jessica finally caught sight of her eye bulging boss. Bruce saw her horrified expression and paused the music with his miniature remote. Earle marched up.

"What on earth... This is Earle Enterprises! _**Not **_a jamn day night club!" Bruce's back was still turned as he held the trembling Jessica in his arms. Earle pointed his finger at the exit doors.

"Out! You…are… FIRED!"

"Now, now Mr. Earle… that's being a bit too over the top, don't you think?" Bruce spoke calmly, slightly turning his head. Earle tightened his lip.

"Who the heck do you think you're speaking too, punk? What gall for you to come in here and disrupt an important business meeting and turn this fine establishment into a dance house!" Earle then snapped his fingers towards the phone

"Jessica, call the police to escort this man off the premises."

"But, you just fired me…"

"I DON'T CARE! You'll never work in this town ever again if you don't** pick up that phone**!" Nobody did anything for the moment. Earle went up and grabbed Bruce roughly by the shoulder, making him face him.

"If you think I won't have you locked up for this, your…OH… _CRAP..._" Bruce was looking him dead in the eye. He was not angry, not even ticked off… just met with a slow and easy grin.

"It's Wayne Enterprises, Mr. Earle… Or is it "Earle Enterprises"? I'm confused." All the men were shocked, some of them looking like they had a heart attack. Some were on their knees praying and begging forgiveness for almost disowning their true allegiances. Earle was full of mixed emotions.

"Bruce? You're supposed to be dead."

"Kiss my feet…" Bruce said abruptly. Earle's brow furrowed.

_"What?"_ Bruce's eyes narrowed. He repeated himself.

"I said… _kiss my feet_" Earle didn't know what to do, knowing whether or not to take him seriously. The men and the secretary were watching him. Earle stammered, repeating the question again.

"You… want me to do… _what?"_ Bruce steadied his voice. He restated his command once more.

"I said… _get on your hands and knees, old man…"_ Earle looked around, everyone watching.

"GET ON THOSE KNEES OLD MAN!" Bruce roared with sudden authority. Earle, slowly, descended on the carpeted ground, the secretary behind Bruce recording the whole scene on her phone. Some of the men smiled seeing their boss being somewhat 'dethroned' in this manner. Earle, now on his knees, glanced up at Bruce.

_'Oh.. I **wish** I had my samurai sword right now…'_ Bruce thought devilishly.

"Get on your hands." Bruce spoke evenly. Earle began to get up in protest.

"Now this has gone far enou…"

"PALMS DOWN!" Like a magnet, his hands met the floor. Bruce held a serious expression.

"Now… crawl over here…" Earle was swearing under his breath as he hobbled like a dog over to Bruce's feet.

"_Good boy…"_ The secretary was going to love the free vacations she was going to get from now on. Earle peered up at Bruce one more time, his face read it all.

"_You b*stard!" _Earle then looked at his shiny shoes.

"Oh, and I _might_ have stepped in something earlier when I was coming here… so…" Earle stopped, his puckered lips only an inch away from his toes. Bruce smirked then shrugged.

"Sorry to disappoint."

* * *

Rachel walked into her boss' office, her hands holding some documents.

"I need you to take a look at this…" She put it on his desk, then heading back out.

"Have you seen him yet?" Finch inquired as he was looking over some papers. Rachel turned.

"Who?"

"Wayne." Rachel held a dumb look on her face. Finch lifted his gaze.

"It's been all over the news. He's back." Rachel still held a dumb look on her face. Finch moved his head from side to side.

"Hello?" He snapped his fingers. Rachel managed to stay frozen, spaced out... dumb faced in candy land.

* * *

"I'm sure you realize I can't stop the big machine." Earle was explaining defensively as both he and Bruce were sitting in his private office. Bruce sat in a big chair, looking very rich and powerful. Earle offered him a glass champagne.

"There are too many wheels turning…"

"Yeah", Bruce replied, "I heard a little of that 'wheel turning' the way you said "Earle Enterprises". Earle cleared his throat.

"Well... that was… just..."

"Save it."

"But we're going public…"

"I understand."

"Now, before you… what?" Earle started quickly then caught himself. Bruce spoke again.

"I said… _'I understand'_. In other words... _'I don't give a crap'_."

"You don't'?"

"But assured I'll be handsomely rewarded for my shares."

"Yes, of course."

"_Yes_, of course..." Bruce was eyeing him, "Good answer." Earle was beginning to sweat a bit. He downed his beverage.

"I'm not looking to interfere." Earle had pulled out a handkerchief, padding his face in relief.

"I am looking for a job."

"Oh..?" The surprises never stopped.

"I just want to get to know the company that my family built."

"Of course…"

"I put the emphases on _'that my family built', _Mr. Earle." Earle smiled nervously as he poured himself another glass. Bruce just held his.

"Any ideas where you would start?" Earle inquired.

"Applied Sciences caught my eye."

"Fox's department. I'll let him know you're coming."

_You don't even __**know**__ what you've just unleashed, pal…_

"You know, you look like him. Your dad…" Earle took off his glasses.

"I always thought I favored on my mothers' side."

"You're the only one left of the Wayne family."

"Yep, _'The Last of the Mohicans'_, that's me." Bruce patted his lap.

"This is where you belong."

"Uh, yeah, hence my name on the front of the building..." Earle raised his champagne glass.

"Well... welcome home." He smiled a 'buddy-buddy' type smile. Bruce smiled back.

"Are you finished sucking up to me right now? Cause right now you're still_ totally_ in denial."

**"Aloha!**" The secretary shouted down the hallway, her suit cases packed with flowers around her neck as she made her way for the airport. Earle pierced his lips as he rubbed his face

* * *

_**Hey guys! Hope you liked my latest chapter! Next coming up, we'll finally be meeting up with the one and only Lucius Fox. Lets see how Bruce will interact with the guy who gives him all his gizmos. Better be nice, Bruce! Stay tuned! Thanks for all your guys' compliments and feedback :)**_


	6. Chapter 6

"Environmental procedures, defense projects, consumer products..." The man, Lucius Fox, was looking over the databases at his computer. He turned in his chair toward the billionaire.

"All prototypes. None in production. On any level whatsoever…"

"None?" Bruce prodded.

"Yep."

"Ok, I'll take it all then. I've brought my credit card." Bruce smiled resolutely as his hand made for his back pocket.

_"Um…"_ Lucius had heard rumors of Bruce Wayne's…_'unusual'_ episodes of behavior in the public realm, but didn't really know if any of it was actually true.

"Oh, and I brought my shopping cart as well, hope you don't mind." Lucius wore an _'are you kindin' me' _expression on his face. He eyed Bruce carefully.

"What did they tell you this place was?" Bruce shrugged nonchalant.

"They didn't tell me anything... Did you rather me pay in check? I have a suitcase in the back of my car if you want cash. Whatever floats your boat...

'_Mmhph…' _Lucius kept eyeing him, looking him over. Bruce's brows went up.

"What? Was I supposed to bring coupons? Dang it… I _told_ Alfred..."

"This isn't a store, son." Bruce put his hands up in innocent protest.

"Hey, I just thought I'd come prepared. All I know that it's called "applied sciences" and I thought that meant rich guys like me were supposed to 'apply' to your work. So..." Bruce smiled wide as he pulled out a jangling string of credit cards. There was a short, awkward silence before Lucius raised his own eyebrow.

"Now that's just stupid." Bruce frowned. Lucius couldn't believe that Earle sent this nut to this kind of jurisdiction. Or maybe it was some kind of practical joke.

"Get out of here, you're wasting my time. Don't need jokers like you to screw up my day." Lucius turned back to his computer, waving his hand towards the exit door. Bruce's jaw fell open. Nobody, he meant _nobody,_ except for Alfred, _ever_ spoke to him in that way. He straightened his suit.

"But…um... _I don't know if you know this..._ I'm Bruce Wayne! The billionaire playboy? The guy with his name on the building!"

"And I'm Morgan Freeman. _Get out_." Bruce just stood there dumbfounded. Lucius glanced his direction.

"You're still here?"

"_Please_, Lucius..." Bruce found himself almost begging.

"Mr. Fox..." Lucius lowered his chin.

"Um... right... '_Mr. Fox_'_…I…"_

"You _what?_ Speak up boy! You still haven't told me why you're here..."

"Well, I suppose…"

"Earle told me exactly what it was when he sent _me_ down here." He got up then flicked on the lights to room. It was more like a warehouse, or maybe more like an underground parking garaged filled with tons of equipment of heaven knows what.

" '_Dead end_'. A place to keep me from causing the board any more trouble."

"I don't think you cause any trouble, Mr. Fox. I think you're excellent on what you do. Nothing at all to be looked down upon..."

"Shut up." He smiled, which startled Bruce a bit. The man then reached out patted Bruce on the shoulder. The billionaire flinched.

"I'm just messin' with you, son. Come on." Lucius nodded as he went down the hallway of goods. Bruce stood there a moment, not knowing what to make of this. He then quickly ran to the side and grabbed his grocery cart and went after the man.

"You were on the board?" Bruce was beside him now.

"When your father… ran things..." Lucius looked down at the blue cart. Bruce ignored him, speaking up.

"So, You knew my father?" Lucius scratched the back of his neck.

"Oh, yeah…" Lucius went on; the constant squeaking of its wheels were echoing as they rolled.

"I helped him build his train."

"Cool…" Bruce then whipped out his Ultra-sized Big Gulp, slurping it down... and not too quietly either. Lucius eyed him once again. Bruce stopped in mid slurp.

"What? I'm thirsty! Why do you keep staring at me?" They were both now standing in front of a row of plastic cases.

"Here we are." Still looking at him, he opened one of them. Bruce's eyes went wide as he saw what was in it.

_' Aw, dude...!'_

"Kevlar utility harness. Gas-powered, magnetic grapple gun." He swept his hand across it, Bruce was almost drooling. Lucius took out a piece.

"The 350 -pound test monofilament." They barely started and Bruce's eyes were already glazed.

'_This is better than Toys R' Us!'_ Bruce held a part between his fingers. He then reluctantly placed it back in.

"Wonderful project, your dad's train…" They both continued on.

"We routed it right into Wayne Tower, along with the water and power utilities."

"_Foreshadow_… _'cough, cough'…" _Bruce rubbed his face.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Nothing…" Bruce was rocking to and fro on the front of the cart.

"Anyway, it kind of made Wayne Tower the unofficial center of Gotham City." They then approached a stack of metal drawers.

"Of course, Earle let it go to rot…"

"Like his old man gum decay…"

"Heh, that's right… Here we are."

_**SHOOM!**_

"OH YEAH!"

"Nomex survival suit for advanced infantry."

"_Holy…"_

"Kevlar biweave, reinforced joints." Lucius held it higher so Bruce could get a better look at it.

"Tear-resistant?" Bruce asked, hands feeling over the suit.

"This sucker will stop a knife."

_Oh yeah, baby!_

"Is it Bulletproof?"

"Anything but a straight shot."

_Baby, baby, BABY, baby...!_

"Why didn't they put it into production?"

"Bean counters didn't think a soldier's life was worth 300 grand." Lucius slid the compartment shut, he then leant his elbow on it.

"So, what's _your_ interest in it, Mr. Wayne?"

"Put it in the cart, Lucius…" A look of hard determination was written on his face. The gray haired man narrowed his eyes.

"'Beg your pardon?"

"Don't screw around with me, Fox. I want to borrow it." Lucius leaned there tapping his fingers together.

"For spelunking…" Bruce quickly added.

_"'Spelunking'?"_ There was a slight humorous scoff to his voice.

"Yeah, you know, cave diving?" Bruce was fidgeting, licking his lips. He_ really_ wanted to have that suit. Lucius didn't seem to be in any hurry.

"You expecting to run into much gunfire in these caves?" He inquired.

"_Psh!_ We billionaires think of the craziest things!" You wouldn't believe..." Bruce waved his hand. "We go see an action movie and think it's cool, before you know it we spend millions of dollars for just blowing each other up with TNT!_ Heh-Heh-Heh_…" Bruce did his rich guy chuckle. Lucius was not laughing. Bruce elbowed him.

"That was a joke." Lucius still didn't respond. Bruce composed himself. He then looked the man straight in the eye.

"Look… I'd rather Mr. Earle didn't know about me borrowing..."

"Mr. Wayne..."

"Yes, sir?"

"You're a nut... and probably need some professional help. But I liked your daddy…"

"That's a good thing."

"That's the _only_ reason you're still down here."

"Understood, sir."

"Besides, the way I see it..." He looked all about him, then back at Bruce, "All this stuff is yours anyway."

"Great to hear you say that!" Bruce perked up.

"Now hold on a sec…"

"Wait, hold that thought, Lucius..." Bruce zoomed his cart past and down the aisle. He held his 'grocery list' in one hand and his Big Gulp in the other. Bruce then wheeled around the corner. Lucius was waving his hands in the air.

"HEY! THIS AIN'T NO TOY STORE, YOU HERE?"

"Yes it is…!" Bruce had circled behind him and was now loading the suit at the bottom of the cart. The whole entire thing was completely full. Lucius whipped around, then put his hand to his head.

"How on _earth_ did you fill that up so fast?"

"Well, _duh_, I'm Bruce Wayne. Oh, and you'll be hearing back from me…_real soon._" He grinned, then turned the cart around, running toward the exit, The cart spilling some thing as he went.

"START THE CAR, ALFRED, BEFORE HE CHANGES HIS MIND! QUICK!"

After a while, as Lucius managed to find his seat again, his mind was still totally boggled at the recent current events. He sat back with his arms on the chair.

"So that was the infamous Bruce Wayne? Man, maybe my job_ isn't_ half as bad as I thought if the people upstairs have to deal with _that _kind of crap everyday…" Lucius shook his head. He put on his glasses then returned to his work.


	7. Chapter 7

**_Hey! Been a looong while for a new chapter. A lot of busyness and colleges and whatnot. Anyway, here's two chapters for your Batman reading pleasure! :) ~DMM_**

* * *

"Okay. Give it a try." Alfred shouted up at Bruce. The billionaire was hanging from the wall. They were both in the cave and trying to rig up some lighting. Now that they worked, the cave looked even bigger than it did before. Alfred turned about.

"Charming." Water dripped everywhere, with trickling streams and small pools with every foot lay. Alfred watched the cheetering of bats above.

"At least you'll have company."

'_**SCREEEECH!' **_A bat dove towards Alfred head. The butler whipped out the electric fly swatter, smacking it in the face. A crackling noise was heard as its crisped, charred body splashed and hissed in one of the pools. Alfred didn't even flinch as he tucked it back in his jacket.

'_Pesky brutes never learn…'_

Bruce repelled down his line back the to the damp floor. He was taking careful note to a part of the ceiling that looked like arcs were built into it years ago.

"This must be the lowest foundation of the southeast wing." Alfred observed.

"Whoa! Cool!" He bounded up like a child to investigate with Alfred trailing behind. Eventually they were walking through them.

"Your great-great-grandfather…"

'_Billions of years ago…'_ Alfred cuffed Bruce on the back of the head.

"OW!"

"Your great-great-grandfather was involved in the Underground Railroad secretly transporting freed slaves to the North..." Bruce went ahead, shining his flashlight above.

"…I suspect these caverns came in handy." Bruce was looking up an old metal elevator, it's path leading high up supposedly to a secret entrance into Wayne Manor.

"This is SOOO sweet! Okay, Alfred, get in..."

"I'd rather not, sir."

"Aw, come on, Alfred! Just... hop in!"

"I'd hop into my own grave before I'd even think of 'hopping' into anything _you'd_ suggest."

"Alfreeeeed." Bruce wined, shifting his weight on each foot.

"You don't even know if this thing even works properly, or how safe it is. _You_ get in!"

"No! Besides, you're the butler. I pay you. _You _get in!"

"Actually, you don't pay me, sir."

"…Shut up

"Judging by the knowledge of what you are trying to do, I do believe I'm the one with the leverage, here." Bruce raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, what? You're goin' to black mail me now, butla?"

"Let's just drop this childish nonsense, I had tea waiting and now it's probably cold."

"Man, is that all you ever freakin' think about? _Tea?"_

"Sir, you'd be glad that I had my mid-afternoon tea breaks. It's the only thing that keeps me sane at times."

"Whatever, Alfred. Where gonna use it anyway." Bruce walked away back towards the cave.

"And guess who's trying it out first!" Bruce echoed back.

"And it also subsides sudden hostile urges…" Alfred muttered to himself.

* * *

Bruce wore his "spelunking" suit as he stood underneath the huge roaring mouth of the waterfall, the faint light from the other side misting through. He turned his head yelling towards his butler.

"Alfred! Come up here!"

"I can see everything all right from down here, sir, thank you." Alfred spoke assuredly, dampened enough already.

"Wussy!"

'_**SCREEEEEECH!'**_ A bat like a missile from the sky dive bombed his back.

"_MOTHER…" _Bruce's words were drowned out as his face hit the waterfall fall, then at the bottom of the submerged floor. Alfred was already making his way back out.

"I'll save a cup for you, sir."

"…Thanks… I think I'm bleeding again…"

* * *

**_(1 hour after medical tea break...)_**

((Now…It has begun... Back at the cave… Bruce finally gets the chance to spray paint the suit…))

"Yes!_ Yeeesss!_" Tears were beginning to run down his face as Bruce carefully layered the suit, keeping it as even as possible. Opera music was playing in the background and echoing of the cave walls.

"This… is art!" Alfred walked in carrying a basket full of fried, petrified bats.

"Master Bruce? Why the heck are you crying? It's just a bloody suit! Get over it…" He walked away, stabbing his pointy stick, picking up more charred bats. Bruce ignored him completely.

"Beautiful… just beautiful..." Bruce teared up again. Alfred rolled his eyes.

* * *

((The origin of the **_cowl_**...))

"Now, we order the main part of this cowl from Singapore..." Alfred pointed out on the diagram.

"Do you like my drawing?" Bruce interrupted. Alfred paused, currently leaning over the drafting table.

"…_Yes_…" The butler spoke slowly, turning his head.

"You don't like it…" Alfred said nothing for a moment.

_"What?_" Alfred brows furrowed. "Who bloody cares what I think of it! You're going to be the one flapping about in this thing!"

"So in other words, you hate it…" Alfred rubbed his face.

"Master Bruce. This could be a rainbowed- pink sparkled pony, with fuzzy little wings and a tail of a jacka** for all I care…!"

"Hmm…" Bruce pondered a bit.

"Read… my… lips! I… don't… care! I… don't… give a d*mn!"

"'Pony-Boy?'"

"...What?"

"No, maybe Pony-_Man_… Yeeah..." Alfred did a face-palm.

"Focus, Master Bruce!"

"Right!" Bruce shook the idea away clapping his hands.

"So…Singapore! Via a dummy corporation I presume?"

"Indeed. And then, quite separately", Alfred pointed at the ears of the cowl, "We place an order to a Chinese company for these." Bruce nodded seriously.

"So, put it together ourselves?"

"Precisely."

"Just like old times… remember the model airplane and the gas stove?" Bruce smirked.

"Let's not go there…"

"Mom was_ so _mad…" Bruce began rocking in his chair snickering.

"They'll have to be_ large_ orders", Alfred pressed on, "to avoid suspicion."

"How large?"

"Say… ten thousand?" Bruce looked up at him.

"Are you nuts?"

"Where making a 'bat' costume, sir… and that's a pretty luke term in itself."

"Well…" Bruce shrugged, "At least we'll have spares."

"Yes."

"You're a genius, Alfred!"

"You'd be found and dead in the gutter if I wasn't, sir."

"Yeah, but I'm B..."

"Save it, sir..." Bruce crossed his arms pouting.


	8. Chapter 8

Sirens wailing in the night... while police officer Jim Gordon is sitting in the car waiting for his partner, Flass, dealing for some "under the table unmentionables". The car goes down a few inches as he finally returns to the vehicle. The cop radio is chattering in the background. Gordon looks at him disgusted.

"Don't suppose you want a taste…" Flass offered the share of the spoils, smacking his lips. Gordon just glared.

"Heck no!"

"Well, I just keep offering… thinking maybe someday you'll get _wise_." Gordon sighed, looking out the window.

"There's nothing wise in what you do, you fat a** tub of lard…"

"Hey! I have feelings too, ya know…"

"Yeah, you keep goin' on_ that_ crap and trust me… all those bad _feelings_ ya jawing about will float away real quick... for good." Flass snorted.

"Ya don't know what ya missin', Jimbo."

"Do you even shower, Flass? If the weed wasn't enough to add to that awful stench! Good lord!"

"Bite me!"

"No you bite** this**!" He whipped out his pistol and stuck it up Flass's nostril. Flass was pinned up against the window. He was listening now.

_"Whaa?"_ Stuttered the confused, stinky man.

"Yeah, you think it's funny now? Try talking like that to me again. See what happens." Flass gulped. He tried to gather himself.

"You… wouldn't…"

"Shut up..." He slowly withdrew the pistol, his glaring eyes never leaving him for a moment. Flass rubbed his nose.

"Geez, yo crazy!"

"This is Gotham, you kinda have to be sometimes…" He popped his neck.

"Well, Jimbo, when you don't take the taste, makes us guys nervous…"

"You scumbags should be nervous! We're the freakin'_ law_ for cryin' out loud!" Flass raised an eyebrow.

"So maybe "cryin' out loud" is what ya want to be doin' then…"

"Hey, I'm no rat!" Gordon whipped his head.

"Well, ya definitely ain't no beaver!" Flass belted with a laugh. His eyes went wide with fear when quick as lightning a pistol was shoved up his nose again. Flass was whimpering now. Gordon breathed heavily.

"Now why did ya have to say a load of crap like that? Huh? Man, you are stupid! Talk to me like that just one more time _again_, you can just forget about a nose to scratch and start breathing through a straw!"

"Jeez! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Just jokin' around!" Gordon didn't let up.

"Besides, you think in a town this bent…who's there to rat to anyway? Right?" No response. He shoved it up another inch.

"Right!?" He growled.

"Yeah! Yeah! Sure! I get it. Just… please…"

"Good, now shut up and drive back to the office." He put the gun back in its place. Sweat was pouring down the hairy man's forehead.

"Ye-eah… Sure…" He began readjusting.

"Oh, and drop by the DQ on the way. I need one of those buster bars and a one of them cheeseburgers…"

"O… Okay? But, Mcdonald's is bett…"

**"Yeah, have a problem that, Flass?!"** Flass quickly started up the car, Gordon eyeing him shaking his head.

"Yeah…That's what I thought…"

* * *

_Gotham at night…_

_Always something is bound to happen, something that is out of the ordinary... Unusual… Unexpected… also completely nocturnal…_

Bruce gathered himself on top of the roof, pulling on a very 'non-batman-like' mask. Bruce, to say the least, was far from giddy… more like…

**"Oooh yeah baby! I'm in da _zooone!_ Haha! It's Christmas tonight, baby! Action time, momma! Whoooo hoo!"** Then, after a few break moves and a few Power Ranger/TMNT kicks in the air, he jumped into the darkness…

_Unexpected… Unusual… Gotham at night…_

* * *

Gordon crumpled up the rest of his meal and threw it in the waste basket of his office. Faint laughing and talking could be heard down the hall, but everything else quiet. The room was dark, with only the lamp to give a dim glow. He sat down at his desk, leaning over to the phone, about to make a call. Then… inevitably…

"_Don't turn around." _Came a deep rasp from behind. Gordon froze, feeling something cold up to the back of his neck. He started swearing under his breath. His eyes shifted left.

"What? Did Flass send you to take me out? Wait, no, he's too _stupid _to orchestrate something like that. That dumb lard-can can't do anything but shove twinkies and donut holes…"

"_You're a good cop",_ was the mysterious man's only response.

"You just saw cuss out my partner, did I tell you he deals pot too?"

"Still, you're one of the few…"

"Cut the flattery crap! What do you want with me?" Bruce was biting his lower lip in utter excitement; this was going better than he planned. He was in his own little bubble, his small adrenaline driven world. And-he-was-lov-ing-it! He spoke in a rasp.

_"Carmine Falcone brings in shipments of drugs every week."_

"Well duh! Where were you, on top of some mountain in the snow chillin' with the monks getting high on smoke fumes?" There was silence.

"_Well… they weren't __**monks**__ per say…"_ Gordon screwed his face.

"What?"

"_But that's not the issue we're dealing with here."_

"What are you talking about?"

"_Falcone! Nobody takes him down. Why?" _Gordon rolled his eyes.

"What? Really? You live in a cave or something? You need to get out more…" Another strain silence. Bruce went into thought.

_Dang, I heard he was good, but… how does he even __**know**__ I live in a cave? Is it that obvious? Okay, chill… focus Bruce. Background and entail check later, business now…_ He turned his attention back on Gordon, not catching the right of his arm sneaking underneath the table and pulling back.

"_Answer the question!"_ He rasped again.

"He's paid up with the right people! There! Happy? Got what you came for?"

"_What will it take to bring him down?"_ Gordon laughed.

"Good gosh! I'm dealing with all sorts of idiots today it seems!"

"_Answer…the question" _He pressed in closer. _"And I won't ask you again."_

"Leverage on Judge Faden… and a DA brave enough to prosecute."

"Rachel Dawes." _Figures…_

"What? You guys dating? Is she your girlfriend or something?" The masked man sighed heavily.

"_Unfortunately, due to some certain __**writers**__… Yes…it is my destiny…" _

"You got to be kidding me…" Gordon closed his eyes, trying to imagine that he had signed off on that deal that would've landed him in the Bahamas.

"_But there's hope, though..."_ Bruce continued, looking on the upside.

" 'Hope' is an old lady that lives on my street…" Gordon's eyes were still closed.

"..._At least it won't be forever…people 'die-off' sometime..."_

"Who the heck are you?" Bruce snapped to attention again.

"_Watch for my sign…"_ He voiced quickly, forgetting to rasp a bit. Gordon almost turned in his chair.

"I'll give _you_ a sign you living piece of…"

"_Now, now..._ _**commissioner**_…"

"'Commissioner?'" Bruce grinned beneath his mask.

"_Wait…Lieutenant first…" _

"What in the world are y…"

"_Trust me, you'll thank me at the end for this, I promise..." _He backed away, pulling the office stapler-said-gun from the back of his neck. Gordon was hesitant for a moment.

"You're just one man?"

_"Now… we're two."_ Bruce's voice whispered, fading back. All of a sudden his shirt sleeve caught on the window seal…

"We?" Gordon stammered. Bruce silently was yanking at the bit of cloth, trying to get free. Gordon was waiting for an answer.

_"We…?"_ Gordon spoke again. Bruce was wrestling back and forth, cursing in his mind. He could almost hear his butler laughing.

Gordon slowly turned towards the window.

"DON"T TURN AROUND!" Bruce barked, relying on his masculine Batman voice. Gordon was glued back to his chair. There was a knock at his door.

"Jim? Is everything alright in there? Didn't choke on your own coffee, I hope." There was more laughter. Gordon slowly turned back again, Bruce going crazy trying to rip the fabric.

_Stupid tear resistant Wayne Tech piece of…GARBAGE! ARRRAH! This is a skin tight suit! How could this happen? HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN? _Like a dog tussling his rope, Bruce pulled madly at his arm, looking almost ready to yank it out of socket. Gordon just stared. Bruce stopped as their eyes met. Nothing was said. Finally one of them spoke, it was Gordon.

"Are you… _stuck?_" Bruce was sweating and breathing hard. Not part of the plan…

"_NO! T-Turn… AROUND!"_ He wasn't as confident this time, and less raspy.

"You know… you could've just taken the shirt _off_…" Bruce was fuming.

"_What? __**Heck no!**__ You know how much this costs?_ _Plus it's freaking cold_ _out here, man!"_ Bruce was twisting and writhing like a wild man.

"Hmm, then you must be rich or something, right...?" Bruce stopped.

**"_Shut up!"_** Gordon leaned back casually in his chair, watching intently. There were more knocks at his door.

"Hey, is everything alright in there? A lot of noise…"

"TV show… It's new! Called "Dumb A*s Criminals Doing the Most Dumb A*s Things... _Ever_…" Bruce mouthed some more bad words.

"You have a TV?" Bruce was beyond perplexed… He tried his arm between his legs, with him pulling upwards and pinning his feet, but with no give.

"Man, you _are_ stuck…" Gordon couldn't help but manage a grin. Bruce right then knew he only had only seconds to escape and thus started on chewing his arm. Gordon shook his head.

"Don't do that…" Gordon said coolly, scrunching his brows in matter of fact disapproval. Bruce glared up at him.

"Here, let's try this…" He held up his gun that was recently hid under his desk.

_Oh my gosh!_

Bruce was in adrenaline mode now, at this moment he knew this would test if the main character truly didn't die before the end. Gordon clicked the hammer. Bruce winced, still tugging, knowing he had only one second until…

_**BANG!**_

* * *

The clock started ticking as Bruce almost flung off the building, with one hand barely gripping the outside ladder bar. He began feeling his arm, the sleeve having a graze through it, but no blood.

_Good stinkin' shot! He's givin' me a head start!_

"Better climb, squirrel!" Gordon hand his gun aimed through the window.

_DANG IT_

_**BANG!**_

Bruce began to hustle to the roof. Gordon ran flinging his door open. Mugs, coffee and donuts were flying from hands off cops everywhere; all yelling, and all pissed.

"OUTTA MY WAY LARD BUCKETS!" He shouted at the top of his lungs as he made for the stairs leading up.

Bruce was gasping for air as he made it to the top. Sweat was pouring down his body. He stood there shaking his fists, growling in anger, like a five year old child in a tantrum.

"What the heck just happened back there!?"

"FREEZE!" Gordon shoulder-shoved the door with gun in hand. Bruce panicked.

"OH SHOOT!"

"With pleasure!" In a split second Bruce ran for the edge.

_**BANG!**_

"_**YAAAAAAAA!" **_Bruce hurled himself into the night, air whizzing past his ears.

"I'M FLYYYYING!" He then caught the bars of a stairwell on the adjacent building. Sharp pain shot through his arms as he made himself swing into one of its platforms, slamming hard. Bruce gasped as his muscles throbbed immensely, the soon to be bruises setting in… Barely moving, he reached into his pocket to call Alfred. He had him on speed dial.

"Yes, sir?"

"_Alfred…" _He spoke gruffly, _"It hurts… it reeeally __**hurts!**__"_

"Why are you blubbering to me about it?" Alfred scoffed.

"IT HURTS ALFRED!" Bruce screamed. The butler sighed.

"I'll come by with the car, sir…" He hung up.

"Thanks." Bruce rasped, answering to just the cellphone. He tried putting it back in his pocket but gave up, smashing it against the metal flooring and tossing it down below.

"Dang… this really HURTS!" (This was a sad day...)

* * *

Officer James Gordon held his gun as he peaked over the edge, the darkness covering anything that could be seen. The other cops came up behind him wondering what was going on.

"What the heck was that?" One asked peering over himself. Gordon, still breathing hard, turned to his follow officer.

"If you guys had half a brain you'd KNOW what the heck that was!" The other guys just scratched their heads. Gordon couldn't believe he was surrounded by complete incompetents.

"So… who was it then?" Gordon looked up to the sky muttering something then back down into the darkness.

"Just some nut." All officers stood there not saying nothing for a moment. One came up behind them suddenly munching on doughnuts.

"Hey Jimmy! Would you you like a doughnut hole?" Gordon gritted his teeth, then turned to face him, smiling.

"Sure, I'd be glad to take one. I'll also show you where to put it too..."


	9. Chapter 9

Back at "Applied Sciences R' Us", Lucius Fox was sitting at his desk sipping coffee when a hobbling Bruce Wayne entered his presence. Fox analyzed him then smirked.

"Well, what is it today, more spelunking?"

"I want a refund…" Bruce spoke evenly.

"Beg your pardon?"

"The Nomex survival whatcha-ma-callit suit!" Bruce waved his hand, "I want a refund!" Fox leaned back in his chair, taking off his glasses.

"As I recall our last encounter, Mr. Wayne, you ran out of here like a lunatic kid in a candy store…"

"Umm... I don't really _recall_ that very much… and if I _did_ I'd relate more to a toy store…more my style." Fox stared at him.

"And I said, quite mistakenly, that… if I remember right_… All this is yours anyway?"_ Bruce sighed, getting impatient.

"Your point _Lucius_?"

"_Mr. _Fox…" Fox raised his eyebrows. Bruce bit his lip.

"What is your _point_… 'Mr. Fox?'"

"All I'm saying, it's your problem, son. You own it. It's your crap. And I just facilitate all of this." Fox placed his glasses back on and leaned forward in his chair with his fingers together. Bruce just stood there, he was getting nowhere at this point. Bruce sighed again, rubbing his forehead. Fox smirked again.

"Was there anything else, Mr. Wayne? Some ibuprofen perhaps?" Bruce ignored that last statement.

"No. Today it's BASE-jumping…" Fox barely held back a laugh.

"BASE-jumping?" His eyebrow raised higher.

"That like _parachuting?_" Bruce leaned foot to foot.

"_Kind_ of…" Fox put his head down, then pulled back up again.

"What's the story? You and your high end friends leaping over Hoover Dam? No, that's too low class for what you guys do… Maybe off the Statue of Liberty, perhaps? That's more brazen I do believe…" Bruce bit his tongue so hard he thought it would bleed. Alfred had advised him if he wanted to get more stuff out of this man it had to be on… _"friendly terms"_. Also given his unique situation, it would help in the long run. Bruce pressed on.

"Do you have any lightweight fabrics?" Fox seemed almost surprised.

"What, no catch phrase for today, Mr. Wayne?" Bruce's face was like stone.

_"No…"_

"No cute remarks? No shopping carts? A coupon maybe, Mr. Wayne…" Bruce was like a bottle that was shaken, ready to explode.

"N-No…" The billionaire stammered. Fox casually leaned over his desk, fingertips still together.

"No Big gulp today… Mr. Wayne?" He spoke slyly. Bruce finally snapped, pounding the table.

"I GET IT, FOX! YEAH, NO MORE CART CRAP, OK? I JUST WANT SOME FREAKIN' LIGHTWEIGHT FABRIC TO GET MY FREAKIN' A*S OFF THE FREAKIN' GROUND SO I CAN FREAKIN' FLY TO SCARE THE FREAKIN' CRAP OUT OF PEOPLE! THINK YOU CAN HANDLE THAT **OLD MAN!?**" His face was red, and there was now a permanent dent in the table. His heart was racing and he was breathing hard. Fox had a quizzical look on his face, he hadn't moved an inch. He only had one question, though.

"'_Scare the freakin' crap out of people?'"_ Bruce's mind raced, realizing he had totally screwed this whole thing over. Outside he heard the wheels spinning out on gravel from his awaiting limousine; then disappearing into the distance. Bruce clenched his jaw, looking past his shoulder.

_Jamn you, Alfred! You scum bag!_ Bruce tried his best to compose himself, but the cat was out of the bag. Bruce slowing faced the older man, who again was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed and looking expectantly. The billionaire loosened his collar.

"Heh heh… uh, want a raise?" Fox took off his glasses then stood up.

"You know, I think I have just the thing…" Bruce was confused.

"Wha-_what?"_

"Follow me." He said simply. Bruce followed.

_Oh crap! He's on to me! Gonna call the cops! Do I need to go all ninja on him or what? _Fox led him to a table with a black box placed upon it. He opened it with a click, pulling out some black fabric then placing it down on the counter.

"It's called memory cloth."

"…Okay?"

"Notice anything?" Fox looked up at him, putting on and a black latex glove. Bruce analyzed it carefully. He then poked at it a couple times.

"It's limp…bacon limp..." Fox rolled his eyes, sighing. A lot of that was passing around so it seemed

"Regularly flexible..."

"Yeah, that's what I said, limp!"

"_Yes_...but put a current through it..." Suddenly the glove came alive as it shocked blue electricity and as Fox placed his hand upon the fabric…

_**SHOOF!**_

"OH _DUUUDE_!" Bruce was, once again, an excited kid as the the cloth sprung up. Fox kept talking.

"The molecules realign, it becomes rigid, see?"

"Oh YEAH I see… papa…" His mind was spinning with possibilities.

"What kind of shapes can you make?" Bruce's eyes were wide.

"Can be tailored to fit _any_ structure based on a rigid skeleton..." Bruce dumbly nodded his head.

"Too expensive for the Army?"

"I don't think they tried to market it to the billionaire, BASE-jumping crowd."

"Too_shay_…" There was silence. Both men were standing at the table, one looking over and the other clearing his throat awkwardly. Bruce abruptly turned to Fox.

"Look, Mr. Fox…" His voice strenuous.

"Yes, sir?" Fox raised his eyebrows inquisitively. Bruce tried to find the words.

"If you're uncomfortable with all this..."

"Mr. Wayne…"

_Oh boy, here it comes…_

"If you don't want to tell me exactly what you're doing..."

Bruce tensed.

"...When I'm asked, I don't have to lie." Fox then bowed his head a bit.

"But don't think of me as an idiot." He smiled. Bruce un-tensed a little, now thoroughly confused." He scrunched his brows, closing his eyes.

"Wait, hold up..."

"Yes?" His voice still calm.

"I just basically chewed you out! Said I wanted to scare the crap out of people! Let's be honest here. Why?" Fox nodded, understanding this statement. He responded back.

"Let's just say being an 'old man' has its advantages of foresight on what's to come… _If you know what I mean_…" He patted Bruce's shoulder who was totally amazed and also shocked.

"Fair enough…" Was all he was able to say. He dazedly swept his gaze around. And then… he _saw_ it… The look on Bruce's face at that moment was hard to put into words; a mixture of lustful passion, and yet tremendous, un-containable joy. Bruce cleared his throat, barely rasping he nodded passed Fox.

"What's that?" He voice shaking. Fox looked behind him to a line of military like vehicles.

"Oh… The Tumbler?" Bruce felt his knees beginning to buckle. Fox slightly shrugged, observing Bruce he smirked.

Oh… you wouldn't be interested in that…" Bruce stood up straight, looking him dead in the eye.

_"Oh, wouldn't I…?"_

* * *

"PUNCH IT CHEWIE!"

"Mr. Wayne…"

"WHOOOOOOOOO!"

"This is not…!

_**VRRRRRRRRHOOMMM! **_

The engines roared like a rumbling beast as the Tumbler zoomed across the white practice bay. Fox was holding for his life as Bruce… well…

"MACH 5 BABY! SWEET BABY BACK RIBS! LOOK AT THIS PAPA!" Bruce began pushing all the buttons.

"She was built as a bridging vehicle...!" Fox was shouting at the top of his lungs.

"...During combat, two of these would jump over a river, towing cables!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, skip the history lesson, pops, where's the throttle!"

"Over here on the throttle…"

_OOOH Yeeeah!_

"…Flip that open and throttle up…"

"Already there, Lushy…"

"This will boost you into a rampless jump... NOT NOW!"

_**BOOOSSSSSHH!**_

Bruce was at his peak high right at that moment.

"**I… LOVE… THIS… CARRR!**" Fox quickly reached for the throttle switch.

"Not now, sir!"

"Awww, come on!" He whined as the car slowed down.

"Are you…"

"Crazy? Heck yeah!"

'_Afterburner disengaged.' _The computer in the vehicle responded. Bruce was grinning ear to ear.

"'Sup **PC!**"

"Sir, it can't…"

'_Doing fine, Mr. Wayne…'_

"HA, she knows my name! How awesome is that!" Fox was dumbfounded.

"That… wasn't in the programming..."

'_Welcome to the Tumbler, Mr. Wayne. Would you like to listen to any particular selection of music today?'_

"Your voice is so **sexy**! Heck yeah! Van Halen- 'Jump'!"

"Mr. Wayne, don't…!"

'_Request granted…'_ The music went to full blast as Bruce did laps around the course. Fox was petrified and looking like he was ready to have a seizure. He regretted ever even showing him the car. Bruce went to the throttle again.

**"RIDE THE WALLS BABAYYYY!"**

"NOOO!" Fox was pleading loudly. Both of their heads snapped back as the Tumbler kicked it into high gear. Tears were flowing from both of them, but both for completely different reasons.

"Stop…STOP! **STOP!**" Fox couldn't take this insanity anymore. Bruce turned to him with a look on his face. Then he smiled.

"WHAT?"

"You heard me quite jamn well! STOP!"

"YOU... ARE SUCH… A KILL JOY!"

"STOP!" Bruce sighed a teenage sigh as he began powering down.

'_Afterburner disengaged.' _

"Thanks PC…"

'_Would you like a martini today, Mr. Wayne?' _Bruce threw his head back.

"Now why can't anyone around here understand me like _that?_"

"Stop the car…" Bruce pulled to a halt, the motor growling like an animal that has been un-caged... _unleashed!_ Bruce fingered the stirring wheel.

"Man…this baby works just fine! WHOO!"

"Like heck!" Fox's hair, along with Bruce's, were completely frazzled. Fox, thoroughly ticked, was flipping through the twelve inch car manual for computer voice recognition.

"Hey… Fox!" He punched his shoulder. Fox jumped and returned a hard stare. Bruce was so high that he didn't even notice, or if he did didn't care.

"So, I bet you want to ask me what I think, right?" Fox was silent. Bruce leaned towards him, whispering.

"_I think it's freakin' aaaawesome!"_ He snickered like a school boy that had just told a dirty joke. Fox was beyond understanding this man at all, or why he hasn't been incarcerated yet. Money or no money… Fox slowly turned away from him. Bruce punched his shoulder again.

"Hey Fox…" He jumped again, slowly turning to meet his face. He was still high, and still smiling.

"Just one question…" Fox's eyes widened like they never widened before.

"Does it come in black?"


	10. Chapter 10

"I need you at the docks Thursday…" Carmine Falcone slid a glass of whiskey over to Flass, the dead beat detective.

"Problems?" He asked, casually taking a sip. Falcone shrugged.

"I don't want any trouble..."

"You call this whiskey? I could do better at 7 eleven!"

"Quit yer whining!" Falcone snapped. Flass put on a pout as he drank the rest down.

"Are you sure that's all?" Flass asked after an extremely loud burp. Falcone lowered his head.

"Yeah, of course I'm sure! Just with the last shipment…"

"Surrre…" Flass kind of rolled his eyes. The mob boss sneered.

"Whatta ya mean _'sure'_?

"Heard around that you miffed off the Scarecrow a couple a days ago."

"The what? Who the heck?"

"That's what we call 'im, that Jonathan Crane guy, heard you _really_ cheesed him off…"

"But why the heck is he called a freakin' _'scarecrow'_? Flass shrugged. Actually, as Falcone started to think about it, the guy_ was _kind of a nut.

"Not my place to say…" Flass shrugged again, trying to be mysterious.

"Is that so." Falcone nodded with a hint of irritation.

"Yeah, another word I heard on the street is you got a beef with somebody in the DA's office."

"Geez, ya think anybody could mind their own bees wax once in a while in this town."

"...And that there's a fat prize waiting for anybody willing to do anything about it."

"So, what's your point, Mr. Flass?" Flass bobbed his head, blinking his eye lids. Flass sighed.

"Have you seen the girl?"

"Yeah, and she's a pain in the a*s!"

'_I'll say...' _Bruce muttered, listening to their conversation on the outside through one of his nifty gadgetry.

"It's a cute little assistant D A." Flass prodded.

"Not _that_ cute." Falcone stated flatly. Flass paused to think about it, then nodded considerably. It was Bruce's time to sigh.

'_Why they didn't give me Jessica Alba or Christina instead I'll never know…'_

"Yeah…" Flass concluded, "But still, don't you think that's a little _too _much heat to bring down, maybe?" Falcone stirred his drink, "Even for this town?" He took his time before answering.

"Never underestimate Gotham City." The man stated matter-of-factly. He glanced up.

'_Pretty soon ya gonna be sayin' that for me, Falco'…' _Bruce rasped under his breath.

"People get mugged coming home from work every day of the week, Flass…"

"Yeah, even in an _office_… Hey, almost like what happened to yo…" Falcone picked up an ash tray and chucked it at his face.

"OOW! Holy… mother…AH! IT BURNS!"

'_MMkkk!' _Bruce held back a snort.

"You shut yer mouth wise guy! Or I'll rip ya throat out next time!"

"Jeez… That **hurt!**"

"It better have…"

"Jamn it!"

'_These guys are gold. Man, I'm going to have fun with these guys…'_

Falcone straightened himself up, Flass beginning to recover. The chair squeaked as he leaned forward.

"About the chick…it's like I say. _Sometimes.._." Bruce listened in closely, his face basically pressed all up against the window.

"…_Things just go bad._ Do get my drift?"

"Yeah…" Flass shook his head, trying to look like a bad a*s.

'_Me too…'_ Bruce pronounced darkly_. "Okay, enough of this, it's game on now!_

"Who's that at the window?" Flass craned his neck.

"_Oh crap…!"_Bruce instantly dove into the trash.

"What? Who is it? Is it Crane?" Falcony almost turned completely in his seat. Flass chuckled.

"See, I _knew_ you were worried 'bout him."

"You a*shole!" Falcone growled.

"_That a*shole…!" _Bruce muttered, as he was now covered head to toe with smelly and rotting garbage. Falcone was left beating the detective mercile, his body guards trying to pull them apart. Bruce Wayne slowly made his way to his car. After a long shower, his next move would be bringing injustice… to its knees!

* * *

[Back at the cave…]

_**Hiyyyyyaaaaaah! **_

**SMASH!**

Alfred Pennyworth had just taken a sledge hammer to one of Bruce's trial cowls, as pieces flew everywhere. He glanced back at the billionaire who was leaning back watching.

"You know, Master Bruce, you don't _need_ to call out like that."

"Oh… yes I do, Alfred." Alfred rolled his eyes. They both stood to look at the damage.

"Seems like a problem with the graphite, sir." The butler observed. Bruce nodded his head, lifting his eyebrows.

"Yeah, ya think?"

"Let's not get cheeky, sir." He sighed. The billionaire screwed up his face.

"'_Cheeky'"_, Alfred…?

"The next shipment will be up to specifications..." He checked off on a list. Bruce shrugged his shoulders, sighing himself.

"At least they gave us a discount…"

"'_Discount'_, sir?" Alfred asked inquisitively. Bruce whipped his head to his butler, eyes going big.

"Heck no, you did NOT just tell my we didn't get a freakin' discount. I spent a couple thousand grand's on this sh*t! _With _coupons!"

"My mistake, sir… I believe we do, the receipt is actually right here…" Bruce's eye's narrowed.

"You were gonna roll with that one, weren't you?"

"Just keeping you on your toes, sir." He said wistfully.

"Enjoyed that, didn't you?"

"Just a little jest..."

"Almost gave me a heart attack!"

"You're rich, you can handle it." Bruce sighed heavily, crossing his arms while rubbing his face.

"In the meantime, sir…" Alfred picking up one of the shards, "May I suggest you try to avoid landing on your head? _Hmm?"_ He grinned. Bruce straightened up.

"_Quite right, dear chap, I do quite agree with you." _Alfred frowned.

"I don't even sound like that…"

"_Quite right, ol' boy, now, I do believe some tea is in order right now…"_

"Of all the…That's not even close to how I sound!"

"QUICK! STEP LIVELY NOW! GET YOUR FANCY A*S UP THOSE STAIRS OL' BLOKE! WE NEED REFRESHMENTS! REFRESHMENTS! HURRY, MAN!"

"I have it sitting right here, _sir…_Nice and hot…" Alfred said with a slight bow of presentation to the stray seated next to him. Bruce bumped the stray with his elbow, the whole thing clattering to the damp floor. Alfred froze, then straightened up, looking into the dark eyes of his ward.

"_Get up those stairs, old man." _He growled.

* * *

It was the night of preparation. Bruce went to work on Fox's gadgets, getting all the "bugs" out so that there would be no mistakes. He clipped the strings on the belt to the Nomex suit for "splelunking" and smoothed it out. Yeah… it was going to be good. He tested out the memory cloth, long stringy fingers which he whipped about but then activating the electric glove making them long and ridged; turning it off making them limp again. Like I said, it was going to be good…

Bruce was at the grinder shaping a metal object, small but sharp. After a few moments he held it high to examine it. Alfred walked up in front of him.

"I call this baby, _'the Batarang_!'"

"The… _'batarang'_, sir?" Alfred sounded quizzical.

"What, don't like it?"

"Rather corny name if you ask me; doesn't really strike the 'terror' that I was imagining."

"Well, I didn't ask you, did I _Alfie..._" Bruce responded testily.

"Well… you kinda did…"

"…_Noo..._ I said _'what, you don't like it?'_ It's a 'yes' or 'no' question, answer it." Alfred had to sigh again over this troubled teenager with a teen-aged attitude.

"It'll have to grow on me I suppose, master Bruce."

"Great, good enough…" Bruce went back to studying his epic masterpiece.

"Isn't it beautiful, Alfred?"

"Why bats, Master Wayne?" The butler asked abruptly, interrupting his master's reverie.

"Bats frighten me…" Bruce simply stated; a moment of serious pause before he then looked up at the gray haired man, the man staring back at him. "It's time my enemies shared my dread..." Bruce hurled the batarang at the wall… the wall snapping it in two. The cave went dead quiet...

Alfred cleared his throat, dusting off his trousers.

"I think it's time I start tending to that tea now…" He "accidentally" knocked the full tray of tea to the floor, picking it up quickly and making for the stairs. A loud eruption could be heard from behind him.

"OMG! YOU **GOT** TO BE KIDDING ME! _HAHA…_! I SPENT THREE FREAKIN' HOURS ON THIS! THREE FREAKIN' HOURS! _HEH HEH_, ON ONE! JUST ONE! 'UNO'! ONE! ALL I GOT IS _ONE-HUNDRED_ TO GO, THAT'S ALL! THIS IS BULLSH# !" Alfred shut the gate with a clang as he ascended in the elevator to the manor.

* * *

**_Next chapter... The one our young billionaire has been waiting for for so long... Stay tuned! :)_**


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